One of the unexpected features of living in a half-finished house is that you’re not the only ones living in it.

The wall along the back terrace still hasn’t been properly sealed. It’s one of those jobs that sits permanently on the “soon” list, somewhere between fixing the gutter and sorting out the loose tiles by the kitchen window.

For months I mostly ignored it.

Then the lizards arrived.

At first it was just one. A small, quick flash of movement disappearing into a crack in the plaster. I assumed it had wandered in by accident and would move on once it realised the place was already occupied by a family of humans who don’t always close doors properly.

But it didn’t move on.

In fact, a few days later there were two.

Then three.

Now the wall seems to host an entire tiny civilisation.

They appear in the late afternoon when the sun warms the terrace. Small, pale brown creatures with that slightly prehistoric look lizards always have, as if they belong to a much older version of the planet.

The kids spotted them before I really paid attention.

One evening my eldest shouted, “There’s another one!” which triggered the sort of excitement usually reserved for football goals or ice cream vans.

Within about a week the whole thing had become a family pastime.

Someone will be making tea. Someone else will be clearing plates. Then from outside comes the announcement:

“Two lizards today!”

Or sometimes:

“Four! There are four!”

My wife remains unconvinced that this is something worth celebrating, but the rest of us seem to have accepted the arrangement.

The truth is, they’re probably doing us a favour.

Insects disappear quickly around here. Mosquitoes, flies, the tiny moths that gather around the terrace light. I’ve started noticing that wherever the lizards appear, those insects tend to vanish shortly afterwards.

They sit absolutely still for long stretches, then suddenly dart forward with the speed of something that’s evolved to survive on walls.

Efficient little hunters.

It’s made me realise something slightly ironic about this half-finished place.

If the house were perfectly sealed, painted, and landscaped the way estate agents like to photograph properties, none of this would be happening.

The cracks in the wall would be gone.
The rough plaster would be smooth.
The insects would probably disappear.

And the lizards would go somewhere else.

Instead, the unfinished bits have accidentally created a small ecosystem.

A few warm surfaces, a few hiding places, plenty of insects, and suddenly the terrace has its own quiet wildlife population.

It’s not exactly a rewilding project.

More a side effect of being slightly disorganised with the building work.

But I’ve started to like it.

There’s something reassuring about the idea that even a messy, half-complete human space can still support other life if you leave enough gaps for it.

So the wall will get finished eventually.

Probably.

But not just yet.

For now it seems to be functioning perfectly well as the local lizard apartment block.